


Gotta Pick a Pocket or Two

by Arnie



Category: Garrison's Gorillas
Genre: Birthday, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 19:25:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18224411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnie/pseuds/Arnie
Summary: It's Goniff's birthday and what better way to celebrate?





	Gotta Pick a Pocket or Two

Goniff smiled to himself as he slipped out of the Big Room. It was his birthday, and to celebrate, the Limey had decided to indulge in his favourite hobby of stealing stuff. He'd decided that he was going to 'borrow' one item from every single person in the Mansion and nothing was going to get in his way.

His first victims were not, as you might expect, his fellow Gorillas. Goniff knew that if he helped himself to any of their possessions, they'd know it was him and track him down. However, if everyone else in the Mansion got hit first, the other Gorillas just might come under suspicion and give him time to complete his self-imposed mission. He had absolutely no idea that everyone connected with the house knew him to be the stickiest fingered individual they'd ever had the misfortune to meet, so he was automatically suspect #1 whenever something went missing.

With his plan in mind, Goniff made his way to the kitchen. First in line, Mrs. McCoy the Mansion cook. Mrs. McCoy was a Cockney, just like Goniff, and had eyes in the back of her head, just like Goniff's mum. Stealing from Mrs. McCoy's kitchen was an honour and a challenge, and one that he was proud to accept. He opened the door slightly and peered around it. He was in luck! The cook was at the back door busy arguing with the unlucky soldier who'd been detailed to give her that day's takings from the vegetable plot. As the woman raised her voice to talk over the soldier, (informing him loudly that carrots chopped in 'alf with a spade wasn't what she arsked for and if she wanted her carrots choppin' with spades, she'd chop 'em with spades 'erself, thank you very much), Goniff reached the table and stretched out his hand to take one of the gleaming silver spoons lying there. Suddenly his attention was caught by the plate of iced fairy cakes to his right. He licked his lips as he wiped his fingers on his sweater. They didn't 'alf look good. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know that Mrs. McCoy was still berating the soldier for his stupidity in digging up carrots with a spade when all they needed was pulling up with one hand, and Goniff reckoned he had time to help himself to a fairy cake before scarpering with a spoon. 

He was wrong.

His mouth was full of fairy cake, the spoon was in his hand, when Mrs. McCoy's wrathful voice behind him took him by surprise. "And what do you think you're doin'?" she demanded.

Goniff tried to swallow his cake and choked on a crumb. The spoon clattered across the tabletop as he coughed and Mrs. McCoy's eagle eyes took in the fingerprints on the silverware. Ignoring it for the moment, she briskly slapped Goniff on the back before giving him a glass of water.

With his coughing under control, Goniff turned to give her his sheepish smile, that, he hoped, would reassure he that he wasn't doing anything really, but his smile faded as she counted the spoons with a scowl on her face. Reassured that none of her precious spoons were secreted about Goniff's person, she grabbed him by the ear, escorted him to the door and through the doorway, then slammed the door behind him.

Goniff was left facing the door, a denial in his mouth and no one to tell it to. He shrugged. He'd managed to take a fairy cake, that would have to do for now. Making a mental note to return to the scene of this crime later (and hopefully commit another crime by collecting some cutlery), the little thief made his way to the front door and out into the grounds.

An hour later, Goniff was smirking again. His setback in the kitchen had been more than countered by his success among the soldiers stationed at the Mansion. He retired to a quiet corner and examined his hoard with a feeling of pride; he felt that they really should declare him to be the greatest of all pickpockets. His newly acquired possessions included: various sets of keys; a couple of wallets; the Vicar's bicycle clips; six ID cards; two weekend leave papers; one lucky charm; three pictures of sweethearts and one set of Sergeant-Major's stripes. He smiled. While the Sergeant-Major's stripes had merely been another shot in their long running battle with the man, Goniff felt that getting the Vicar's bicycle clips had been a far greater challenge. Especially since the Vicar had been on his bicycle and making his way up the driveway at the time.

Returning to the inside of the house, Goniff paused to consider his options. As a matter of honour, he felt he should finish what he started and return to the kitchen, however the cook was on the alert and any purloining he did would have to take place under her watchful gaze. He raised his head proudly. If he were to lay claim to being the Greatest Pickpocket Of All Time he had to face Mrs. McCoy.

Three minutes later he was back outside the kitchen door, his ear smarting from the rough handling, while the cook placed her precious silver spoon back with the others. Goniff grinned despite his ear. Mrs. McCoy might have possessed the sharpest eyes in England, but not even she had realised that Goniff hadn't take one silver spoon; he'd taken two. The thief pulled the second spoon out from underneath his sweater and smirked at it. Next stop, the Warden.

~*~

"'Ere, Warden...."

Lieutenant Craig Garrison stopped on his way to his Jeep and turned to face Goniff. "What's up?"

Goniff paused as he noticed the officer's cap under Garrison's arm, and the official looking briefcase in his hand. "You off to see the Brass, are yer?"

Garrison nodded. "I've got a meeting with Major Richards. Something on your mind?"

Goniff shrugged. "Guess that means another mission then, 'ey?"

"Probably. But that's what we're here for," the officer pointed out.

"Yeah. Oh well, say 'ello to Richards for me."

"Sure, Goniff." Garrison watched the Limey walk away then headed for his Jeep. Throwing his briefcase into the back seat, he settled his cap on his head, then noticed the Sergeant-Major staring, transfixed, his face creased with puzzlement as he gazed straight at the American's head.

"Sergeant-Major?"

"Sir?" The British soldier snapped to attention as he realised Garrison was speaking to him.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, sir. It's just...."

Garrison watched the man's eyes wander upwards again and snatched his cap off his head to see what was so interesting about it. Staring at the plain front where there used to be an insignia, he exclaimed, "What the hell happened to my cap?"

~*~

"Well, there you are! We've been waiting for you!" Actor shook his head chidingly at the younger man as Goniff stepped into the Big Room.

Goniff stopped as his eyes took in the feast laid out for him, and his three friends standing by the table waiting to celebrate his birthday.

Casino frowned. "What's up with you?" he asked. The Limey looked like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Trapped by the door, Goniff smiled sheepishly, while his mind raced. 

He didn't dare sit down with all his mementoes stuffed into his full to overflowing pockets, they'd end up on the floor and his little game would be busted. He also didn't think he'd have a chance to finish his thieving with the three of them watching him.

Chief glanced at the other two, noting the puzzlement on their faces. "It is your birthday, isn't it, Goniff?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Sure!" the Cockney reassured them. "An'...an' this is great. I'll just...one minute." Waving his hand at them, Goniff made to step back through the door and collided with something solid. He turned slowly, somehow knowing that his recent past was about to catch up with him.

"Goniff, what happened to my cap?" Garrison asked quietly.

The Englishman gazed innocently at the denuded front of Garrison's cap, then shrugged. "Search me, Warden."

"If you insist...." Privately, Garrison thought that was one of Goniff's better ideas.

Goniff started to protest then stopped as the Sergeant-Major burst into the room.

"'Ere, what 'appened to my stripes?" he demanded.

Garrison stared at the soldier, then back at the thief. "Goniff!"

THE END


End file.
